


In the Heat of the Day

by Rachel Wilder (rwilder)



Category: Smallville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwilder/pseuds/Rachel%20Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Kent offers to cool Martha off on a hot, hot day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Heat of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: This story was written for the SV_Undercover contest on Live Journal. My thanks to dear Lyra for getting me to write a Smallville story, Beth and Mare for the spectacular beta and Logan for my copies of the show I was missing because I live in the middle of nowhere.

Martha sighed and brushed her hair back. It was days like this that made her long for her childhood in Metropolis. Somehow, the heat seemed even more oppressive on the farm; the open space seeming to harbor the warm winds as they swept across Kansas turning the grass brown and the walls of her home into an oven. It wasn't often that she missed the city. It was those memories that lured her into a job with Lionel Luthor. For a few weeks it had felt so exciting. But unsettling. It was how she knew leaving the city for Jonathan was the right decision. She had known it then and she knew it now. It was just harder to remember on these days when the heat had her in its clutches...

Suddenly there was coolness against the back of her neck. She turned on her chair at the table, looked up at Jonathan, and smiled. "Mmm, that feels good."

Jonathan held out his right hand to her, his left still holding the melting piece of ice. "Then I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Kent."

Martha stood up and faced her husband. "Did you sneak in and install central air while I was in town?" she asked, her voice teasing.

"C'mon Martha, you know better than that," Jonathan responded. "But I did remember something my mom used to do for my daddy on a hot day like today."

Martha looked at him quizzically. "Better than air conditioning?"

"Well, maybe not better, but it definitely has its advantages. You coming?"

Martha followed her husband up the steps. At the landing, Jonathan stopped and held open the door to the bathroom. Martha paused, then stepped into the bathroom. Jonathan followed her, closing the door behind them.

Martha turned, not sure she recognized where she was. The room was light and airy and dare she dream…cool. Jonathan reached up and loosened the button on her shirt.

"The first thing we need to do is get you out of these warm clothes," he said, his voice low.

Martha stood silent as her husband gently stripped her, first of her shirt, then shorts. He reached back and unhooked her bra, letting her breasts fall free. His hand reached up to caress her skin, along her collarbone and down her arm. Then his hands moved down, sliding her panties off. She stepped out of them, now standing naked in front of Jonathan.

Jonathan moved past her, pulling the shower curtain back from the edge of the deep claw-foot bathtub. The tub was filled with water, small chunks of ice floating on the top.

"So, that's where the cool air was coming from," Martha said as Jonathan held his hand out to her.

"Get in the tub, Martha," Jonathan invited.

She carefully stepped into the icy water, gasping as the cold hit her skin. Slowly she eased down, her body slipping under the cooling veil of the bath.

Jonathan knelt down next to her, a cotton washcloth in his hand. He dipped the cloth in the water, then brought it to her shoulders, which remained above the water. He squeezed the cloth gently, the water dripping down her smooth skin. Moving the cloth along her neck, he touched the edge of her hair.

"Dip under, Martha, cool your head, too," he instructed her.

The water was so cold, but soothing on her body. She had felt so different lately. It was hard to describe, but since that night of the tornado, the night with the ship nothing had felt quite the same, like there was a force within her that she had never experienced before.

She closed her eyes as Jonathan continued to move the cloth over her, washing every inch of the body he knew so well. Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine the look on his face, the way his eyes burned into hers…

Martha's eyes snapped open. "Jonathan, what are we going to do about Clark?"

Jonathan pressed his fingers gently against her lips. "We're not worrying about Clark right now. We'll deal with his fire starter situation later. Right now he's safe, and this evening you and I are going to take a little time to attend to our own needs."

Martha smiled and let her lids drop closed once again. She slid down further into the icy water as the heat of the day slowly exited her body. Jonathan continued sliding the washcloth over her, moving it along her legs, massaging the stress from her feet. After he stopped she kept her eyes shut, completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. A few minutes later she looked up at him.

Jonathan stood up and reached for the large white towel that had been lying on the edge of the sink. Holding the towel in his left hand, he reached his right hand out to help her from the tub. As she stepped out onto the fluffy rug, he wrapped the towel around her, drying the water as it beaded up on her smooth skin.

Wordlessly, he led her from the bathroom into their bedroom. Martha barely recognized the room. The shades were drawn to keep out the heat, and their regular sheets had been replaced by intensely white cotton sheets, the pillows piled up at the head of the bed.

On the floor, a fan oscillated in front of a small pan of ice, its cool air sweeping across the room with each rotation.

As Martha approached the bed, Jonathan pulled the towel from her body. She sat on the edge and watched as he slid his shirt from his shoulders. She hadn't noticed earlier, but Jonathan had taken time to clean the sweat from the day's heat and work from his body as well. She sighed as his jeans slid down his legs and onto the floor of the bedroom. Jonathan leaned over and moved the clothing away.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked.

Martha chuckled lightly. "You look like you did the day I met you, Jonathan Kent. No one would dream you were old enough to have a teenaged son."

Martha slid back against the pillows as Jonathan joined her in bed. He slid his left leg over hers and knelt in front of her. He smoothed her hair back and leaned in to kiss her. "You keep me young, Martha. You and Clark."

Martha's face grew dark. "I…I worry, Jonathan. What will happen when we're…"

"Not today, Martha," Jonathan replied as he leaned forward, his hand grazing across her right breast. Her nipple grew hard under his touch. She slid down slightly from the pillows and slipped her hand along his hips and up to the smooth skin of his lower back.

Jonathan's breath began to quicken as Martha drew him closer to her. He slid within her, moving to give her pleasure as well.

Jonathan slid his arms up along her body, giving himself leverage to press further as she pulled him deeper inside her body.

The warmth began to grow in Martha, not like the oppressive heat of the Kansas summer, but more like the night in the storm shelter. It wasn't so much warmth as it was energy.

She gasped, feeling nearly as if she was being split in two.

"Martha?" Jonathan asked, his face creased with concern.

She shook her head, unable to talk. She wanted him to continue. She wanted that feeling again. She raised her hips up to meet him, to draw their bodies closer. Jonathan shifted slightly and she began to fill once again with that energy, the heat, the total amazement of being with this man.

Finally, they finished, Jonathan lying next to her in the cool, soft bed. He rolled on his side to face her.

"You're amazing," he said, smiling.

She leaned in to kiss him. He never ceased to surprise her. She had married him because he was a good man and she loved him, but she never could have imagined their life. Which was a good thing, because if she had known about the hardship, she might not have risked the pain for the joy.

She might never have come to this moment. Her hand slid down, across her flat stomach, past her navel to the womb that had never been able to hold a child.

And she smiled.  
FIN


End file.
